


A Bit Of My Past

by rebecca5031



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Oneshot, Summer Fling, teenage romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 02:32:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9362111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebecca5031/pseuds/rebecca5031
Summary: Dawn Harper has an chance meeting that came straight from her sisters romance novels, down to the tall, dark, handsome stranger.Sirius Black dips his toes into muggle London and all its complexities. Lost, he simply asked for help.Disclaimer: I don't own HP, but I do own Dawn, 'her' story and all other original characters mentioned in the text.





	

 

Walking down a windy Charing Cross Road at the beginning of June was not the traditional time or place for new beginnings, but it did, in some sort of twisted way, work for me.

“Excuse me Miss, but do you know where the nearest station is?” a masculine, well- accented Londoner’s voice asked. The bare hand that tapped my shoulder helped me to identify _myself_ as the unfortunate direction giver.

“Wha-Sorry?” I turned and saw a tall black haired bloke behind me, light coat sensibly on to ward off the evening chill.

“The nearest station… The underground?” a thick eyebrow raised.

“Oh, right… Eh? From here? I’d say your best bet is Leicester Square Station.”

“Right, thanks! You don’t happen to know how to get to it, do you, love? I’ve not been long in the city- got cocky enough to think I could manage without an experienced person guiding!” His smile was cheeky, but not in that creepy way that all other underground dwellers seemed to be able to master.

“Er- right. Um, keep heading down the road here until you get to Litchfield Street…. If you come across a bunch of stalls selling West End tickets you’ve gone…”  Well maybe he was creepy after all.

“…Would you kindly stop gawking at my breasts?” I asked calmly.

That got a reaction. He jolted and his grey eyes widened in an amusing mix of horror and fascination.

“I, eugh, I just- Your shirt, it says the Sex Pistols on it, is all. I, eh, I like them too. Haven’t seen any of those shirts around though. Hey, where did you get it anyway?” The creepers creep levels restored to interact-able regions mollified my inner feminist.

“Oh, at their concert. They don’t sell them in stores but my friend managed to swing me one before they sold out. Couldn’t get one this year though-“

“The concert in The Roxy! My mates got me tickets but those bastered’s cancelled on us!” His eyes blazed, passionate in their betrayal.

“I know I couldn’t believe-” 

“Oi- love birds, out of the street!” A man walked between Creeper and I, boxes staked high above his head.

Embarrassed my cheeks flushed but Creeper only grinned sloppily.

“So tour guide, where too?”

“Sorry?!”

“We’ve to get off the streets and I have to share my fury, so… Where to?”

 ~~~~

 

“You did _not_! My God, if I tried _half_ the stuff you and your mates pulled I’d have been expelled ten times over!”

“Eh, they love us really… we keep ‘em young” He finished with a wink and a slurp of his drink.

We had stopped in a nearby café to warm ourselves up and to avoid annoyed labourers. It was a small little shop decorated in pastels but with their hot-chocolate they could paint unicorns on the ceilings and I would still happily venture in.

“So this is your first time in London then, if you’re getting lost in the streets?” I asked the dark haired dreamboat in front of me.

“Yeah, surprisingly! I’d been shipped off to boarding school before I was old enough to wander outside without the parents, and most summers I go off with my mates, so not a lot of time to look about, I’m afraid.” He punctuated his words with wild hand movements and facial quirks- I was enamoured, unfortunately.

“So you live near here?” he tiled his head to the London streets outside. People could be seen milling about and crossing roads, car’s revved, double-decker’s carted tourists and fat pigeons begged. London was in no way the city of dreams but it was _my_ city, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“Yeah, all my life. It has its ups and downs…. I have a love-hate relationship with it really!” I laugh to ease the conversation.

We continued our chat long after our mugs were drained and the sun drooped, Cynthia had to chase us out at closing time so she could finish locking up. Stepping out into the street seemed to break whatever spell had been casted because where we had been amicable and easy we became jittery and awkward.  

“So, um... do you want to maybe meet up again? This time actually get a tour of London?” I tried, head bowed and shoes scuffing against the cement sidewalk. 

“Yeah, yeah I would. Thanks! What day suits? I’m free most days, really…” His smile was full and despite his hands buried deep in his pockets, I had a feeling if it wasn’t for the cold they would have been flung high and wide to highlight his excitement.

“How does Friday suit? I have to work the other days, so...?”

“Friday! Will we meet up here at… one?”

 “One.”

Walking in opposite directions from each other I was in a small daze. He is super fit! Hopefully we won’t make a balls of it on Friday!

“Oi, Dawn! This is a date, right?!” The deep Londoners accent yelled. 

I stopped suddenly and pivoted to look at him. He was walking backwards without a care in the world, his stupid grin on his face, hands still glued into his jackets pockets.

“Sure!” I called out, and face stretched from my smile, I turned and walked on in the direction of my house, happiness swelling in my chest.

 ~~~~

 

“Damn, Black! You paying homage to the punk Gods?”

He stood kitted out in a black zip leather jacket, torn dark wash denim jeans and thick black boots. His hair, despite his rugged clothes was still as smooth as memory recalled. His cheeky grin only pulled wider at my comment though.

“So this is your usual style, then? Was I fooled by the Pistols t-shirt and actually have a princess on my hands?” he teased, stopping abruptly in front of me and letting his eyes roam. He spent a little too much time admiring my hemline, so, naturally I stepped into his space to sway the cheeky creeper.

“Shut it, these are my work clothes.” A confused look passed over his annoyingly attractive face.

“If I showed up in _my_ clothes, I’d lose my job- don’t look at me like that, we can’t all run off to posh boarding schools!” I hip checked the smirking idiot.

“I don’t believe you- but hey, who am I to pass up a free guided tour ‘round London’s hot spots, ‘eh?” The bold blighter had the nerve to loop his arms around my hips, and pull me closer.

Rocking slightly in his hold I steadied myself by clutching his arm., meeting his eyes only brought my attention to him cataloguing my face. Uncomfortable, I searched his too- sharing the agitation to all.

He really did have a stupidly attractive face, and that god dammed hair of his _had_ to frame it so well. You’d think he stepped out of one of those romance books Ruth keeps leaving around our room. Tall, dark and handsome- he’d fit her criteria anyway. It wasn’t just the cheekbones or the height or that jaw line that kept me staring, though they did not discourage me. No, it was his eyelashes, impossibly long things, they were. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d put mascara on them, that’s how good they looked.

“So… we done this now, or…?” I had to ask. I _had_ to! I know it ruins the fantasy every girl reads of, but Christ was it awkward, and traffic congesting.

“Oh, right…. Sorry?” He uncurled his arms from my waist and unexpectedly held out his elbow for me to take. At my hesitance, he flushed, seemed to internally berate himself. He made a move to put it back down only for me to chat it on the down stroke and tug him onwards. I really didn’t notice how his smile softened at the act- I swear.

 ~~~~~

 

That summer was filled with laughter and concerts in dingy pub basements. Sirius, despite his unfortunate name was a charming lad who was always willing to do things out of the norm. I met up with him at Cynthia’s after work every Tuesday and Thursday for the month of June before the inevitable conversation occurred.

“So… I’m not quite sure how to do this outside in the mug-err, the real world- but I have to ask… Are we courting?”

That stopped me short. We were taking a stroll through Trafalgar Square when he turned to face me head on. As per usual he ignored the indignant squawks from our fellow Englishmen at our abrupt change in pace.

“I’m sorry courting? What century are you from Black?” I couldn’t help myself. I know, _I know_ not the politest thing to say to a bloke.

“Er, right. So what _are_ we doing, cus I like you _quite_ a bit, and we’ve done a fair bit of snogging and I _don’t_ want to stop doing that so… What does that mean for… us?” He rushed out, turning a tad pink. Though that discolouring could have been from embarrassment, not the effort exerted in spitting out his heart.

“Oh, well I guess we’re dating then. Like eurm, a boyfriend and girlfriend kind of thing?” I tried.

“All right then, so long as I get to be the boyfriend!” He bounded ahead latching onto my arm his smile wide and blinding. And so he dragged me with him further into London, into mystery.

 ~~~~~

 

“So they’re nice then, your friends?” I asked nervously. 

We were sitting in our usual spot the second Wednesday of July, beside the window in Cynthia’s quaint café, sipping hot chocolate because British summers were never as advertised. Since we had officially began ‘dating’ the previous week, Sirius thought it necessary to acquaint his friends and I. What a delight, note the sarcasm.

“Not really, bunch of tossers usually, but I told ‘em to act nice, so you should come from here with all limbs intact.” The cheeky arsehole winked down at me.

“Well that doesn’t help!” Spotting his grin, I pushed his shoulder, jostling some liquid heaven onto his pants in the process. _Serves him right!_

“Merlin, Pads! Couldn’t reach a toilet in time?” a bespectacled, dark haired boy asked in a concerned way. A trio were approaching our table, the dark haired boy shorter than his brunet friend but much taller than their third, blond counterpart.

“It’s alright, mate. I know it happens to you all the time, what with you being _much_ older than us and not as, well… as _capable_.” That came from the mousy-brown haired boy with a thin frame as he clasped onto Sirius’ shoulder in a consoling way.

“Now Remus, we mustn’t be cruel to our elders. Respect and all that.” Winked the blond in my direction as he took the chair opposite me.

Suddenly I was boxed in by four blokes, three of which I had never met before. Sitting with my back to the wall I realised how trapped I was. _Please God, don’t let me mess this up!_

“Feck off you bunch of poofs! Right, this is Dawn. Dawn, these are the plonkers I grace with my friendship.” Sirius swung his arm over my shoulders and gathered me closer to his side, almost wrenching me from my seat.

“Blink twice if you’re here against your will” whispered the dark haired one to my right. He wore square glasses with thick lenses, but they didn’t reduce his attractiveness, only highlighted his hazel eyes. Unfortunately for him his eyelashes weren’t at the level of ridiculousness that Sirius’s where.

“Prongs, you’re making her nervous.” The tallest of their triad commented.

‘Prong’s’ square jaw and broad shoulders could put Sirius’s to shame. He sat with a poise I had only seen actors attempt in period dramas; his back ram rod straight. I could tell it was a natural position for him, just as I could tell Sirius’s slouch was something he worked at.

“Nice to meet you all. Sirius has had only good things to say about you all. But I have to ask, is it really true that… "

And so began my friendships with Moony, Wormtail and Prongs, or as they are known to their mothers, Remus, Peter and James. The boys all had easy-going natures and amazing senses of humour. They helped to make my summer as amazing as it was, and excepted me into their group, well not without the occasional ribbing and teasing.

 ~~~~~

 

“Forget Pads, Dawn and run away with me! As long as you can make tea on the run I’ll deal with whatever the consequences are!” Remus declared passionately.

The boys and I were supposed to go to the carnival today, but because it was pissing rain and their respective modes of transport home were limited to times arranged the previous week, we said ‘bye’ to my girl-friends and camped out at my house.

“I may take you up on that, at least you wouldn’t steal my biscuits” I stuck my tongue out at my boyfriend, the cookie-thief, as I walked past him on my way to the armchair. Lurching forward he dragged me onto his lap, the cheeky sod. With a bit of shoving I made myself comfortable on my new perch, grateful that the tea was no longer in my hands.

“I got a call to my Mom when you were in the kitchen, she said she can arrange something for me, Wormy and Moony before three? Sorry about this-” James started.

“Its fine guys, really. It’s not like anyone is home anyway, it’s no trouble. Sit down and enjoy your tea.”

“Thanks Dawn, you’re a saint” My would-be-eloping-partner breathed. Remus was a scrawny thing, all elbows and knees but was a total sweetheart. His pointed face and shaggy hair added to his bookish charm, as did his whisky-coloured eyes. We had bonded over, oddly enough, tea and myths. ‘Moony’, I theorised got his nickname due to his compete fascination with all things werewolf. It was an odd interest to hold one captive, but at least it was an interest that was easily catered for, his birthday present last week was unsurprisingly, a text of old European lore on his favourite supernatural creature.

“So Pete, are you gutted that you couldn’t spend the day with Val?” I teased from my shared seat. The blond boy blushed furiously at the mention of my friend who had taken notice of his attractive quirks. While on the shorter side of the spectrum when compared to his frankly gigantic friends, he was of average height, had floppy ash blond hair and a deep masculine voice. As you can imagine, Val’s boxes where very quickly ticked after a conversation or two.

“It would’ve been nice, but hey, the summers not over yet” He threw out, fighting through his reddening cheeks.

A chorus of jeers erupted, filling the room at Peters sly remark. James even reached out to ensnare his friends head under his arm and ruffle his already unruly hair.

The boys had an easy relationship, a natural give and take that was amazing to observe. All four of them seemed to have equal friendships with each other, none of them obviously favouring someone over anyone else. Even within my own friend group I was closer to Jen than Val, Beth or Cassie.

“So Dawn, did you hear about…”

And so I was dragged into the boy’s bubble. Enveloped in Sirius’ warmth I felt comfortable in my position in the group, knowing I was an outsider yet an accepted outsider was a nice feeling. It certainly eased my tension’s regarding my romantic entanglement with the stud I was sitting on. Being liked by his friends was going to make life simpler and me liking them back was a blessing from above. Maybe something stronger could come out of a summer fling. In that moment I felt that it could.

 ~~~~~ 

 

It was the end of August, the end of the summer of ’77. I was only sixteen, sitting in my usual café with my newly turned seventeen-year-old boyfriend. Our summer romance was at its official expiry date, but neither of us voiced our worries. 

We sat together in a booth, both of us facing the window. His head rested on top of mine, the dark streaks protruding from his scalp brushing the back of my ear. My head laid on his shoulder, our hands clasped together.

“What do you want to do?” I whispered.

“Can we do nothing?” he murmured, not moving his head.

“We should stay in contact anyway… I think just as friends though” I whispered again, not really wanting to server our connection.

“Oh…. If you think it’s for the best, then sure. Friends.” His hand tightened its grip on my own.

“We’ve got to be realistic about this…. So friends?”

That Shakespeare lad’s got it all wrong, parting is not such sweet sorrow. It hurt.

~~~~~ 

 

Despite our best efforts, like all other teenage romances, ours too crumbled in the face of school-work and study. We did try however. For my initial term of school, it was a common sight to see an owl of all things perched on my window sill. 

It scared Ruth shit-less the first time a bloody owl landed and pecked at our bedroom window at five in the morning. She, armed with the kitchen broom tried to shoo it away from its roost in the open window frame. The beast squawked indignantly and flew to land on my head before lowering its leg to show off the leather cuff on its leg.

When I screamed and swatted at the creature it clawed into my hair with its talons and waved the cuff in my face again. Taking this as an unexpected que, Ruth walked cautiously forward and took the tassel that was swinging from its confides. A letter followed after it and it was in those moments that proceeded it I knew Sirius was an absolute wacko.

 

**Sept 4 th **

 

**Dear Dawn,**

 

**I hope this letter finds you in good health. Sorry if Gertie got a bit ‘handsy’ with you- she doesn’t take to strangers all too well. In case you haven’t noticed by now, she’s an owl.**

 

**I know you might find it a bit more than weird, but this is how me and my mates stay in contact with our families when we’re in school. The post-people don’t facilitate our school so we’ve had to make due.**

 

**But back to the reason I’m writing this, Hi!!! Its dreadfully boring here without you- I miss our little chats. It’s odd not to be able to turn around and ask you something when the thought pop’s into my head. I wish more than anything that you would be able to come to study at Hogwarts and experience everything here first hand. Word’s don’t do this place any justice.**

 

**I have no idea what time this will get to you at, but fingers crossed it doesn’t wake you or anyone else up. You can write me back and send it to me with Gertie. I’ve told her to stay back until I get a response, so no worries there.**

 

**If it’s not too much trouble, would you mind leaving out a bowl of water for her? The journey down from Scotland can be hard at times- don’t worry about food, she’ll have hunted on the way down.**

 

 

**Sending all my (platonic, of course!) love,**

 

**Your (wants to be more than only a) friend,**

 

**Sirius.**

 

 

 

There were many letters, and many more after that, but it wasn’t to be. We all know how these things go, how life gets in the way, and how it isn’t really any one person’s fault but a combination of all things that complicate existence. 

I still remembered him, however. I missed him, and compared other boyfriends to the bar he set. Sirius Black was a gentleman of long forgotten manners. 

The way he treated me when we were alone was with a respect and diligence I had previously only experienced second-hand when observing my great-aunt interacting with her husband. I could honesty say it was refreshing and heart-warming to have someone thing of me in such a manner. He was such a good man. A good, strong man.

That was why when I skimmed the main headline on that fateful November 1st I was more shocked than anyone to read ‘Siruis Black: Terrorist Caught’. And so, our romance was tainted. That summer forever shrouded in questioning and disgust and horror that I had been so close to someone capable of something so horrible. And so my new beginning was discarded and forgotten, only to be reflected upon the darker days.


End file.
